I'm beginning to have an understanding of what my father felt when he came home after working all day, grabbed our baseball mitts, and stepped into my room to ask if I wanted to play catch. He would usually find me on the floor of my room, in the midst of a galactic battle between good and evil, Empire and Rebellion. Now that I'm a father, I find myself with two young daughters who have the same view of their father as their grandfather once held.

At this point I was feeling pretty good about myself and the conversation. I felt I'd taken a stand for equal rights and promised to defend my daughters' reproductive rights. I was feeling much like a bona fide father of the year candidate when I was blind sided by the next question. "So, how do they get in there then?" she asked.

The Dad 2.0 Summit was recently held in Houston, TX, and a large portion of the event focused on the relationship between advertisers and dads — or the lack thereof. Fathers are staying at home in increasing numbers, and according to this NY Times piece, many of them are tired of being treated by advertisers as if they're not up to task.

I recently happened upon this post from SouleMama and fell in love: it's written by her husband, and is about putting chores and life's other demands on hold while you sit back and enjoy the life you have with your family.

When I was a kid, growing up with bright red hair wasn't easy. It's tough to remember just how red it was as it fades with age. I mean, it was a really deep dark oxidation red. A burnt umber that would have made Bob Ross sigh in delight and approval. Besides the typical teasing of being the odd looking kid in the neighborhood, there was an inordinate amount of hair touching that occurred back then too.

I watched my neighbors connect. It's something I don't think we get the chance to do that often anymore. During this age of social media, many of us spend more time updating statuses or tweeting than we do sitting down and having a conversation. Even better, a conversation over a slice of pie. There is something inherently neighborly and folksy about ruminating over pie.

To my girls, right now, I am super human. Flawed, undoubtedly, but they overlook, forgive, and maybe even ignore them. What they see is that superhero my 14-year-old self wished to be. In my girls' minds, I can accomplish anything. I am defender, righter of wrongs, protector of justice.

I grew up with an understanding of manual labor that the children of those who work with their hands often receive: as rewarding as it might be, it is awfully hard on your back. My dad would come in from his barn at night, primer dust in his hair and streaks of paint on his shirt and we knew better than to complain about our days.

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We believe that while children change your life forever, being around kids doesn't necessitate abandoning your identity. In September 2013, Offbeat Families stopped publishing new posts, but our archive of 2000+ empowering posts will stay online forever! And you can still find NEW family-related posts on our sister site, Offbeat Home & Life. Also, you should totally follow us on Facebook.